


poetry in motion

by bevcrushers (dothraloki)



Series: road to nowhere [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraloki/pseuds/bevcrushers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tasha yar hates ro laren until she doesn't anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	poetry in motion

**Author's Note:**

> au where tasha yar doesn't fuckign die

It’s not that Tasha dislikes Ro. No, that’d be stupid.

Tasha maybe dislikes her _attitude,_ the way she talks - so blunt and to the point, never ten words used when one would do. Ro doesn’t mingle with the others, doesn’t sit with anyone at Ten Forward, doesn’t speak to them outside the confines of her job, and yes, okay, there’s no Starfleet regulation stipulating you _should_ spend every waking moment being social with your colleagues, social cohesion is good for morale and good for team-building.

Most of the time, Ro acts like she can barely tolerate them. The way she’ll leave the bridge, abrupt, when her shift’s over, never a backwards glance or a nod or a wave at the crew. Or the short, pointed looks she’ll shoot occasionally over the rim of her Corellian beer, when Tasha and Deanna sit together at the bar, knees bumping, laughing and chatting. It makes her self-conscious, worried that she’s being irritating, that’s the weirdest thing about it. Tasha’s never much cared what people thought of her - couldn’t afford it. She’s not narcissistic enough to think it’s only her getting the cold shoulder, but --

\-- _Most_ people wash right over her, like water off a duck’s back, but Ro’s different - she gets under her skin, irritates her in a way that Tasha isn’t much used to.

But Tasha doesn’t dislike her. That’d be petty.

*  


Okay, yeah, maybe she does dislike her. It doesn’t _matter_ though; Tasha’s professional enough not to let it show. And anyway, it’s not like she’s the only one. Just this morning she’d overheard Geordi and O’Brien’s conversation in the transport room. O’Brien had squirmed, trying to be polite, before giving up and saying flat out how much she set him at an edge.

“ - Yes!” Geordi had said. “It’s not like - she’s not - her face _never_ changes --"

“She always looks as you’ve done something to her,” O’Brien had nodded. “And I know it can’t be that, ‘cos I’ve never so much as exchanged _two words_ with the woman.”

Tasha had privately agreed - it’s rude, maybe, to a preconceived set of judgements about someone you’ve barely interacted with, but Ro radiated negativity like damn tricorder reading.

*

“Go easy on her,” Deanna says, as they leave the holodeck.

Tasha snorts. “I’m a better officer than that, aren’t I?”

“You know what I mean.”

Tasha evades her arched eyebrow altogether in favor of grabbing her water bottle and toweling dry her sweaty face. “I really don’t.”

“I know she’s a little -” Deanna struggles. “A little rough around the edges.”

It’s Tasha’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “ _A little_?”

“She’s been through a lot.”

“We all have,” says Tasha.

“Yes - and you were a little rough around the edges too, when we first met,” she says. She doesn’t add _‘until I softened you’_ but it’s implied, in the way her mouth quirks into a teasing grin, the way her eyes twinkle.

Tasha sighs, can’t stop her own answering smile.

“Give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s a good officer.”

“I know that,” Tasha says.

“You don’t - how could you? You never take her on away missions.”

“And you know that how?” Tasha pauses, leans up against the wall Deanna’s stood beside. It comes natural, easy, never more than a flirtation. “I think you’re a still obsessed with me, counselor.”

Deanna rolls her eyes, shoves into her playfully. “If you want to think that: fine. Just - help her find her place, Tasha.” She’s looking up through her eyelashes - like that that’d work on her again.

Tasha swallows and flips her towel over her shoulder. “You’re a goddamn terror, Troi.”

*

She’s a competent officer, of course she is, but it’s just --

That _voice._ Monotonous, flat, bordering on the cusp of insolence. Tasha knows she’s nitpicking, knows she’s being petty, but she can’t help it. When they fan out to explore the cave dwellings, Ro comms her with that same bored voice, like she’d rather be somewhere, anywhere else than here on this away mission.

She fights well, though. Tasha should have seen it coming. Ro’s got good reflexes, moving swiftly, arm arcing in the hair, feet twisting, dark hair like a curtain falling in her face as she cuts down the alien with a force that’s almost graceful.

“Good job today, Ro,” she says as they wait in the turbolift. “Never knew you were such a fighter.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Ro replies, curtly, in that same flat voice except --  could that be that a little smile on her face? A pleased look in her eye? Ro’s out of the turbolift and making her way back to her quarters before Tasha even has chance to do a double take.

It strikes something heavy in her, anyway.

*

Maybe, she thinks, as she stares up at the dark ceiling at half past four in the morning  - maybe there’s something in this benefit-of-the-doubt business. Maybe Deanna was right. It wouldn’t be the first time, and knowing her, it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She makes a point not to tell her though, the last thing Deanna needs is an ego boost.

The counselor still looks like the cat that got the canary when they sit together at breakfast, anyway.

*

Truth be told, Tasha gets a little obsessed with it. It’s never anything other than casual, she makes sure of it. If Ro ever realized that every compliment, ever light pat on the shoulder was calculated to evoke some, any reaction from her, she’d shut down completely, it’d be right back to square one and Tasha’s made so much _progress_.

Over time, Ro’s reactions range from wariness to bemusement to something like pleased. She’s never completely open about it, always tries to hide those cracks in her rigid facade, but somewhere along the line, she stops being so careful with it that Tasha has to strain to see. She’s drunk on it, drunk on breaking down those barriers, drunk on being the only one that can elicit something from her.

*  


“Commander Yar -”

Tasha swivels, recognizing the voice before she spots the figure dressed in red running down the corridor behind her.

“You - uh - you left your PADD in Ten Forward.”

“Oh,” she says, taking it from her. “Thank you, lieutenant. You just saved me a trip. I was about to head up to Engineering.”

Ro’s smile is quick, tight, before it drops away completely. “It’s my pleasure.”

It’s as Tasha’s standing in the Turbolift that she realizes somewhere along the line, when she hadn’t been looking, all that bad feeling she’d had for Ro Laren had faded away.

“Huh,” she says to herself.  


*

“She’s warming up to you,” Deanna observes, voice carefully neutral as she volleys the tennis ball over the net.

“Yeah,” says Tasha, backhanding it.

“You’re warming up to her.”

Tasha doesn’t deny it. “That a crime?”

Deanna shrugs, setting the ball down to drink some water from her bottle.

“You were right,” Tasha says sometime later, as they rest on the bench, catching their breath. “We're the same.”

Deanna rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious, but twines their fingers together, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

“How did you have the patience with me?” says Tasha.

Deanna smiles. “I’d be a pretty poor counselor if I had trouble with patience, wouldn’t I?”

*

She doesn’t know why seeing Ro in her off-duty clothes surprises her so much.  Maybe it's that she’s used to seeing her only in her standard Starfleet shirt and pants -  sometimes wearing that red headband, sometimes, when she’s off-duty, wearing her Bajoran earring. Never like this though - hair swept to one side, overlarge bomber jacket hanging down near her thighs, wide collar top draping off one shoulder, tucked into high waisted pants.

She realizes she’s staring when Beverly digs her elbow into Tasha’s side discreetly. 

“Geordi was just saying,” Beverly prompts her. “About shore leave?”

“Oh,” she says, “Yeah, ’m glad it’s not Risa again. Don’t think I could take it for a second year running.”

Geordi snorts. “Nor me. I think I’m still wearing off those Arcadian sunrises from the first time.”

When she glances over again, Ro meets her gaze, steady. She doesn’t smile but there’s something in her eyes - something that leans just on the right side of _suggestive._

 _Shit_ , she thinks. Oh shit.

*

“Yar to Enterprise,” Tasha tries for what feels like the five hundredth time. “Come in, Yar to Enterprise.”

“Commander, they can’t hear us. We’ll have to wait ‘till the storm clears.”

Tasha sighs. Shivers. “That could be hours,” she scans her the plane with her tricorder again. No life signs. At least they could sleep. “We should start a fire. Start gathering wood.”

They make a pit in the sand, right by the edge of the cavemouth, Tasha sets the fire with her phaser. It’s not much warmth but it’s better than nothing.

“All we need now is a little food and this could be a night,” Tasha jokes. Ro says nothing, jaw set, curled in on herself.

“You cold?”

“I’m fine,” she says shortly.

“You know,” says Tasha lightly. “If we’re gonna be trapped for hours in this little cave, we might as well _try_ to be friendly.”

Ro is silent, but she relaxes a little, less tense.

“I’m a little cold,” Ro ventures, after a couple of moments.

“Yeah? Try this,” she grabs Ro’s hands before she can talk herself out of it, rubs her own palms on the outside of Ro’s. “Picked up that little trick at home, got me through a few nights.”

“Sounds tough,” says Ro.

Tasha shrugs and drops her hands. “It was life. It’s all I knew. I got through it.”

Ro’s jaw tips up. She’s watching Tasha now with something foreign in her expression. When she speaks again her tone is carefully mild. “I forget sometimes that you’ve - you know - seen it.”

Tasha’s looks up at her now, a hint of a smile on her face. “I forget that you’ve seen it, too.”

“Some of the others - they don’t know, they’ve never -” Ro struggles for words, and settles on staring at the ground. “You have.”

“I have,” Tasha echoes, quiet.

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Something doesn't sit quite right.

Tasha frowns. “I was a little rough on you at the start.”

“Not more so than the others.”

It’s Tasha’s turn to look away, watching the intricate patterns in the fire. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong of me.”

She can feel Ro’s eyes on her, it stirs something warm in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m getting some sleep,” says Ro eventually.

She doesn’t. Tasha can still hear her teeth chattering as she draws all her limbs closer to her body. She won’t say anything though, of course she won’t, she’s too _proud_. Tasha sighs, and lies down on the ground beside her, drawing her arms around Ro’s shivering frame.

“Another trick I picked up,” she says when Ro goes rigid, turning her head in question. “Always helps to share body warmth.”

“I think you’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity to spoon me,” says Ro, deadpan and it takes Tasha a few moments to realise she’s making a joke. An uneasy one at that. She worries that Ro can feel her heartbeat, thumping against her chest.

She huffs out a laugh. “Go to sleep."

She can feel Ro's answer smile against her arm.

*

“You _like_ her,” Deanna accuses, smug, over her Belgian sundae.

“Are you eight?” Tasha replies with a roll of her eyes.

*

In hindsight, it was bound to happen eventually, what with them both having Alpha personalities. Even so, it’s an almighty argument even by Tasha's standard - the type that could very easily get Ro suspended from duty if the Captain had happened to overhear, if Tasha had been petty enough to take it to Will.

“It was an order, Lieutenant,” Tasha barks when they round on each other in the turbolift.

“Yes, and a _bad one_ at that,” Ro replies, shortly.

There’s anger coursing down Tasha’s veins as stalks forward until she’s right on the cusp of invading Ro’s personal space. “I am your superior officer, Lieutenant Ro, and despite what you might _think,_ ” she spits the word out, Ro’s gaze darkens. ‘As long as you are a Starfleet officer you have to follow the chain of command, is that clear Lieutenant?”

“Crystal,” Ro responds, voice a little hoarse - and that sends a jolt up Tasha’s spine - but there’s still something like defiance in it.

The doors hiss open and Tasha leaves her, blood thumping in her ears.

*

“What have you gotten yourself into, Tasha?” Deanna looks sympathetic when Tasha collapses on her mattress, hair sticking at an angle through the stress of raking her own fingers through it.

She honest to God doesn’t know.

*

The club is hot and Tasha’s skin is flushed and sweaty as she makes her way through the dancers to the neon bar, ordering another Arcadian sunrise. She glances down the bar and meets those eyes - the ones that have been watching her all night.

“Another one please,” she tells the bartender. “For the lady at the end.”

Ro’s eyes never break from hers as she takes the drink with a nod, and makes her way over.

“Awfully nice of you,” she drawls in her ear, over the sound of thumping music. “How did you know it's my favourite?”

“You’ve got good taste. I just assumed," says Tasha. Neither of them are smiling, Ro's eyes are impossibly dark.

“Oh yeah?” A challenge.

“Yeah,” says Tasha.

Ro takes the glass out of Tasha's hand, putting her own on the bar ledge and grabs Tasha hand, dragging her through the mass of sweaty bodies.

*

Ro's back hits the cubicle door with a thud, head tilted up to give Tasha access to her neck and her eyes are shut, mouth open, spitting out curses as Tasha rubs her hand against cotton panties.

“God,” she murmurs, “ _God.”_ And Tasha loves it, sucks a deeper bruise on her neck just to hear the sound Ro makes.

Ro's fingers knot in Tasha's hair when she finally works her fingers inside, swallowing moans as Ro bucks up against her, her whole body arching off the door. They're both a mess, Ro's perfect pin straight hair is damp with sweat, lips bitten red as she gasps like there's not enough air in the room and  _God_ she loves shore leave.

“You're infuriating,” Tasha whispers, hoarse in her ear.

Ro laughs breathlessly through a moan. “You love it, _Commander.”_

Tasha hasn't had that much but she feels drunk, delirious with it as she nips her jaw, fingers finding that spot that makes Ro shout expletives at the ceiling.

“You're right,” she says. “I do.”  


*

“Did I just make the biggest mistake?” she asks Beverly, as they lie in the sand, watching the suns fade over the ocean.

Beverly's smile is teasing. “Does it feel like you did?”

“It didn't at the time?” Tasha offers.

Beverly's smile turns suggestive as she sips her coconut juice. “No,” she agrees. “I bet it didn't.”  


*

She finds Ro the day they board the Enterprise again. The door hisses open and Ro's sat there on her bed cross-legged, watching her.

"You disappeared,” Tasha says, not a question, a statement.

“Yeah,” Ro says dispassionately. “You found me.”

Tasha stares at her for a minute, and then begins pacing. “What did you think this was? You thought I'd sleep with you and then never mention it again?”

Ro watches her. “I _thought_ that it'd get in the way of things.”

Tasha stops, hands on hips. “So what if it does?”

“It was so hard,” Ro starts, looking down at her quilt. “For so long, it's like resisting a black hole. I _knew_ I wouldn't be able to do it.”

“Do you regret it?”

Ro looks up at her – she looks so vulnerable, so open and Tasha _hates_ it.

“Regret it?" she laughs, hollow. "Do you know how long I've wanted - " the rest of the sentence dies away and Tasha swallows thickly.

"I don't understand what the problem is - "

Ro's jaw sets into that familiar impassive mask and it's _so much worse_. "I'm rude and blunt and I push people away.”

Tasha walks towards her. “I don't care.”

“I don't make friends, Tasha.”

“I'm your friend – I'm more than that -” she's at on the edge of the bed now. 

“It's a fucking mess,” says Ro, and Tasha cups her chin, kisses her once.

“Yeah," she says. "It is. It is for me too.”

“It's not going to be easy,” Ro ventures. It's her last card to play and Tasha knows it.

She grins. “Where's the fun in _easy?”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> tasha and deanna are ex-girlfriends who ended on good terms and still sometimes flirt with each other 
> 
> title taken from thomas dolby's 1982 synthpop hit 'she blinded me with science' which you should all listen to right now immediately


End file.
